


La vie est ailleurs.

by montes-carpatus (Carpathyah)



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, CEO Barbara, F/F, Français | French, Intern Meg, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-21
Updated: 2015-07-21
Packaged: 2018-04-10 09:53:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4387280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carpathyah/pseuds/montes-carpatus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the rooms of the building was a world she never imagined she would become part of. Between the walls, were the creations of the clothing she wore on her body, from her underwear to her handbag. Colours of the equinoxes were chosen here. She was going from being nothing but a mannequin and photoshop work to drawing and creating designs with one of the biggest names in fashion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	La vie est ailleurs.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for not translating the French. // Excuse my broken French writing.

There was no words in the English dictionary that could describe the nervousness that shook her bones as she got out of the taxi in the middle of Paris. She clutched her purse tightly, remembering the English to French dictionary that she kept in case she couldn’t find the words to speak. She would walk the foreign streets until it became her home and her visa had run out. What was an American to do in France anyways?  


Meg had accepted an internship in a prestigious fashion and design company. Her years as a model had allowed her to meet people and develop contacts until this moment. She had left her apartment in Austin for the rustic streets of Paris in hopes of securing a job in the business.   


Her heels clicked on the sidewalk and she walked up to the building that stood in white and gold. She gulped as she pushed through the doors and up to the reception desk. The woman was  busy on the phone but noticed her. Meg raised a finger to signalize her presence and was only responded with a hand and something vaguely in French. She kept quiet and stood there until the woman hung up the phone.  


_“Bonjour mademoiselle, comment est-ce-que je peux vous aidez?_ ” the woman replied in a perfect Parisian accent. Meg took the words she heard and quickly translated them in her head to get a little understanding to what she is being asked.  


“My name is Meg Turney, I have arrived for my internship with Madame Dunkelman,” Meg replied with a cheery tone. The receptionist, taken aback by her American English, picked up the phone and called for a Gavin Free.   


“Take a seat, her representant will be with you shortly,” she replied in english. Meg nodded and took a seat on one of the white leather sofas. On the glass table in front of her laid three copies of the newest editions of Vogue Paris, Elle, and Purple. All three were in French. Meg picked one up, flipping through the thick pages of makeup and articles. She reached the article of the company she was interning for. Credit to Barbara Dunkelman in the corner for the designs.  


“S’cuse me, Miss Turney?” an English accent spoke. She raised her head to see a scrawny tall man, around her age, with a maintained 5 o’clock shadow, in a bright blue suit and a long black scarf that made him stand out from the women dominated work field.  


She raised and held out her hand. He seemed friendly enough to shake it back.  


“Madame Dunkelman has been expecting you since this morning. New potentials put her on edge. It’s either a good thing, or a terrible disaster! But I’m sure she’ll like you, you have a good air,” he explained as they walked down the pristine white halls and offices.   


In the rooms of the building was a world she never imagined she would become part of. Between the walls, were the creations of the clothing she wore on her body, from her underwear to her handbag. Colours of the equinoxes were chosen here. She was going from being nothing but a mannequin and photoshop work to drawing and creating designs with one of the biggest names in fashion.   


She clenched her purse tighter as the man pushed through a door and she followed close behind. She became hyper-aware of how loud her heels clicked on the tiled floor.   


“Stay here,” he signaled as she stood in place as she went through a door and closed it behind him. She awkwardly looked around, meeting the eyes of employees and designers. She smiled, trying to seem harmless but it wasn’t working and her heart began to beat louder than the stereo at a fashion show.   


He opened the door and she stepped inside. There, less than six feet in front of her sat Barbara Dunkelman. Her lips were painted in her signature Chanel #37 L’Exuberante lipstick, and unlike herself, dressed in a menswear jacket, and black slacks. Her white blouse we open past her breasts, giving no sign of a brassiere. Her blonde hair was well past her shoulders since her last interview, and her bangs have been cut straight across.   


_“C’est-elle?_ ” she asked to Gavin.  


_“Oui, elle est arrivée tôt d'Austin”_ , he explained. Barbara looked at Gavin and he signaled Meg to sit in the chair in front of her. She held out her hand and Meg shook it firmly, like her father showed her,  


“Mon nom est Madame Barbara, et bienvenue,” she started. In those few words, she knew she climbed onto the biggest ride of her life to date.  


She was given a desk, and much of the rulers and pencils. She went out and bought her favourite kind of sketching paper to work on. Her laptop in the corner for any reference she needed. The large glass windows around her gave her the best kind of lighting without straining her eyes.   


Of course, this was an internship, and Barbara would come to her desk for most of the day, teaching her (in French) whom she would have to get acquainted with, and what colours would be in for the season.   


_“Non! ‘Garde!”_ Barbara directed Meg. She took Meg’s hand to help her make the long lines of her dress. Meg was a little frustrated with this assignment. The smell of Barbara’s perfume filled her nose and she became hyper aware that her fashion goddess had her left hand on her back and her right hand in hers. Her blond hair tickled her face. “Tiens. You try it out now.”   


Barbara pulled back and Meg’s heart was pumping more blood to her head than through her lungs. She glided the pencil across the paper.  


_“Pas mal_ ” Barbara commented quickly before retreating back to her office. Meg was left to continue her project without any guidance. She sighed as he rolled up her design and walked down the hall to the person’s office. She smiled and pashed her roll before thanking them in broken French and went back to her desk.  


Barbara was in her office, replying to emails, researching possible designs and colours for the next summer. She called back to the numbers that piled up on yellow post-its on her computer screen. Time to time she switched her eyes to the lovely intern she had set herself up on. She was supposed to be with her, teaching her the art of fashion, teaching her everything she should know, but she was hiding in her office.  


_“Gavin, êtes-tu occupé?_ ” she buzzed.   


“Never for you, love. I’m on my way,” Gavin replied. He was in the middle of a meeting when he quickly messaged her and excused himself. “Can we reschedule this for monday morning? We’ll start where we left off.” Everyone nodded and he left the room and walked down the hall to her office. He knocked and walked in.  


“ _Annuler mes réunions mercredi et jeudi. Aidez-moi à organiser de nouvelles missions pour le stagiaire. Je dois l’amener dans la couturière studio et la présenter à notre chef de production. J’ai une réunion avec Pantone mardi prochain pour une éventuelle collaboration. Je veux qu'elle obtenir certaines compétences administratives._ ” She paused and looked up, He was putting all his notes into his phone.   


“You’re nervous, love,” he spoke. She shook her head.   


“ _Non._ I’m never nervous.”  


“I’ve never seen you so dedicated to an intern before.”  


“ _C’est...c’est rien._ She just has more potential than what I thought. A handful, _une œuvre d'art_ , “ she mumbled as she stared off into her direction. Her Dior mascara, for once, made her eyelashes too long and unable to look discrete. Gavin was almost at lost for words. His boss, possibly his partner in crime, was losing her composure for an American girl. Barbara Dunkelman, head-designer for Mirabelle, was like a fox, more than a deer, and while interns put her on edge, she was more of a mess rather than on point.   


Meg had walked in that morning with her coffee in hand and her hair in a tight bun rather her usual loose locks. Her internship forced her awake an hour earlier every morning to do her makeup and make sure her clothing was on trend and ironed. The commute was short, she was luckily given a furnished place to stay during her time in Paris.  


“Good morning, Bonjour,” she greeted to her temporary co-workers. She was surprised to get a message from Barbara so early. She quickly put down her coffee and threw her coat over the back of her chair and knocked on her door. Barbara answered the door with a smile.  


“ _Bon matin_ , you are joining me this morning to a meeting,” she directed blunty.   


“ _Bon matin_ , should I bring my notes?” Meg asked.  


“Oui, now, hold my files,” she put folders in her hand as she walked passed her. Meg quickly picked up her notebook and a pen from her desk and caught up with Barbara. Meg thought this was an odd request that Gavin should be the one to take up, but with her chin held high, she followed her as fast as she can.   


There was a gracefulness in the way Barbara walked down the corridors. Chin held high, back straight, with a confidence that Meg felt like she could never have. Their heels tapped in sync and Barbara’s earrings were like chimes on her ears. Her hair bounced in their perfect curls and Meg could only slow down a step to take all in that was Barbara Dunkelman.   


“ _Ce matin, vous allez me rejoindre dans ma rencontre avec Pantone._ You will be a second opinion in my future collaboration with the company,” she explained right before the entered the room right on time.   


“Holy shit,” Meg cursed out loud. She excused herself to gentlemen and ladies at the table. She settled in the chair at the end of the table. She organized the files as quickly and organized as she could. They were served cappuccinos in clear tall glasses.   


They spoke quickly in French, switching to English mid-sentence made it hard on Meg to follow and take notes. While her eyes were concentrated on her notes, Barbara made it sure to check on her ever so often and speak in English when she tried to translate in her head.   


“What do you think, Madame..” one of the gentlemen asked. She looked up, and realized she hadn’t contributed at all. She swallowed and took a sip of the coffee before looking at her notes.  


“I would like to propose a pink, a fuschia pink, with subtle blue undertones. I believe it would represent Mirabella’s strong, powerful, femininity to take back pink. In my opinion, it would represent Madame Dunkelman to its best abilities. Your ideas of going with a bright boring sky blue makes it very limiting to expanding to cosmetics other than eyeshadow and mascara,” she responded. Barbara was very much impressed with the response, almost enough to make her cheeks the same shade of her lipstick.   


The colour was decided, a hot fuschia pink would be the colour to work with in the upcoming year. Meg could bounce in her seat and dance a little that her proposal was taken into consideration. Barbara, tired from the meeting, relaxed her shoulders and let Meg fix her folders.   


“ _Meg, voulez-vous sortir pour déjeuner avec moi?_ ” she asked. She was famished, as the meeting was positioned in the middle of the morning. It would be the best thing, to get to know her.  


“ _Oui_! It’ll be my pleasure,” Meg smiled even wider. Everything was going better than planned. Barbara couldn’t help but smile with her.  


Out of the office, Barbara watched Meg have her hand at French. Her American accent peaking through every word. Meg was nervous, speaking out of the office. She would turn to Barbara often for translation and she would kindly tell her the English equivalent.  


“I apologize greatly, _madame_ , I should make more an effort to practice my French,” Meg apologized as they waited for their breakfast. Barbara brought out her hand to touch Meg’s and stroked it in comfort.  


“It doesn’t bother me, _ma belle_ ,” she reassured. She looked down as her face blushed as she felt Meg’s soft skin under her fingers. Meg was taken aback by Barbara calling her her beautiful that she never noticed when Barbara pulled away and drank away at her coffee.   


The silence when they ate could make Barbara go mad.   


Paris was the city of love, of falling in love, of being in love, romanticism. She couldn’t fall in love with a temporary woman. She would be on a plane to America if she didn’t do anything. All the money in the world couldn’t change Meg’s mind.   


“Gavin,” Barbara spoke as she typed away at her computer. Gavin was never far.  


“Yes, my love?” he answered on queue.  


“ _J’ai faite un désordre,_ ” she said. He looked up at her. Her hair was straight, her lips painted a dark red with a white suit ensemble. Avant-garde like of her.  


“I can’t clean this one up,” he responded. She chuckled and smiled before going back to their work in silence.    


Barbara and Meg mixed together like strawberries and cream. Barbara would lose her focus on her work and peek over to Meg’s office, where she worked quietly. She counted down the time left before she left, because maybe her heart would finally calm down.   


Meg was down a different path, wanting to see Barbara as much as she could, asking questions when she can. She dressed her lips in bright pinks and her red hair in curls.   


“Madame Dunkleman,” Meg would call for her and her head would look up instantly. “I’m going home now. See you tomorrow morning. _bonne nuit_.” She pressed a quick kiss on the side of her face.  


“ _Bonne nuit_ ,” Barbara mumbled in awe. She watched Meg leave the office, her heels sounds more off in the distance until she couldn’t hear her any longer. She sat there, with Meg’s warmth lingering on the side of her face. She was in love with her intern. She got out of her chair, and as quickly she could walk in five inch heels, she made her way out of the building and onto the sidewalk.   


“Meg! Stop!” she yelled out. Meg wasn’t far, as if she was waiting for her.   


The streetlights were only starting to come on as the sun set in Paris. People were leaving from work and the rush of cars could possibly overpower their heartbeat. Barbara made her way to Meg, looking small, as if she was looking for someone else’s approval for once.   


“Je t’aime, tellement,” Barbara confessed as she cupped Meg’s face in her hands, kissing her, smudging their lipsticks together. Meg could only stand where she was, letting the moment sink in before she tugged at Barbara’s waist coat.  


Barbara hasn’t brought anyone home in a very long time. She always kept quiet and away from the spotlight other than times she had no choice to have her photograph taken.   


Meg was colour against her black and white decor. Beautiful red against her white sheets. Her dress laid in a pile on the corner of her king size bed. Roses for May, how cliche. Pink lipsticks were smeared across the pillows, nail polish was chipped and mascara was running.   


“It’s tragic,” Meg said as they laid side by side. She curled her new lover’s hair around her finger, feeling how soft and well-maintained it was.   


“ _Pourquoi?_ ” Barbara asked, leaning on her side to look at Meg better.   


“My internship is done in two months,” she reminded. Barbara’s eyes widened as she curled herself around her.  


“No,” she mumbled in the crook of her neck. “ _Reste ici, ma belle._ ”   


“I don’t think I can, as much as I would love to.”  


“I’ll hire you, permanently, I don’t want another intern. I want to keep you.”  


“I don’t know if you can make that decision for me.”  


Barbara called for a mover the next day, to move all of Meg’s things into her apartment. She called a couple of people, but they told her the same: Meg couldn’t stay, her visa was going to run out and she had to return to the United States before she can go back or else she would be illegally in France.  


“How long will it take to get her a renewed working visa? Permanent immigration? I’ll pay for it,” Barbara anxiously spoke to someone on the phone. Gavin was trying to get information to help his working partner.   


After getting the information she needed, she thanked the person and hung up. She took a few deep breaths to keep herself composed and calm.  


“You can always marry the girl,” Gavin mentioned. Barbara looked at him like he had lost his mind.  


“ _T’es serieux?_ ” she asked with furrowed eyebrows. Marriage after being with the girl for a couple of days sounded absurd.   


“ _Oui,_ ” Gavin replied with his heavy English accented French, purposely mocking her response.  


“ _No, je ne peux pas_ , we just started dating,” she argued a she put together some of her work papers, finding the documents she needed. She sighed, looking over to Meg’s desk, who was talking with someone about fabric. She smiled, because she made her mark in the company within a few months and it’s going to be a big loss to see the desk empty. There would no longer be the red-headed women with such a fiery attitude.   


“I don’t want to leave you, Barbara,” Meg’s voice came out broken and high-pitched, as if she was going to cry any moment. Barbara held onto her waist, trying to take in Meg’s presence before it was no longer there.   


“Don’t cry, please, you’ll make me cry,” she gave a weak smile as she tried to stay composed. She pressed her forehead against hers, unable to let her go, not wanting the whole internship to end so soon. She didn’t mean to fall while she was in Paris, but it was the city of love and she was absorbed.   


“This can’t be the end,” Meg pleaded. “I’ll come back.”  


“I know you will,” Barbara assured.   


No amount of cosmetics can cover up a breaking heart. Mascara ran down her cheek as she let go to catch her flight back to Austin. Lipstick smudged from their kiss. Clothes wrinkled from their grip. Things thought to be fixable.  


“Meg, I have good news for you,” Barbara smiled as Meg walked to her computer with her mug of coffee. The time difference made any conversation difficult but they worked to manage it.  


“ _Dites-le moi, cherie_ ” Meg teased. It made Barbara blush whenever she heard her speak in French. She smiled wide, excited to announce what she’s been working on for a while. She had received the phone call only that morning herself. Almost scaring Gavin when she rose from her chair in a violent manner.  


“Your visa has gone through, you will be a permanent assistant designer at Mirabella’s headquarters in Paris,” she announced. Meg screamed, a loud excited scream, she jumped in place; almost spilled her mug of coffee on the table.   


“Oh my God! I’m so happy,” she covered her mouth as tears fell from her eyes. “I have to pack my bags! I have to book the flight, holy shit!” She quietly sobbed. Barbara could only smile back at her. Her heart overwhelmed with happiness that she’ll have Meg working with her again.  


“Meg, _a bientot_ ,” Barbara wished.  


“ _À bientot_.”

  
  
  
  



End file.
